| Location | Kalevala, Outer Rim Territories
For a moment, time slowed to a crawl in that strange sprawl of extended movement, quicker than a blink of an eye and yet perfectly clear in hindsight as the boulder crossed the distance in a blur of motion. Silver armour, recently forged, glinted in the sun above as their wearer threw their arm out in a desperate lunge that launched the tonfa in their hand, far quicker than the motion suggested; it vanished in a flicker—the vague outline barely identifiable, before it embedded itself in the rough stone. Milliseconds later, fractures spread in minuscule cracks that rapidly deepened, until the boulder shattered into hundreds of pieces.
It wasn't enough to stop it.
Itzhal trailed off, his words stolen in the moment before impact. Beskar plates that lay upon his shoulders like the peak of mountains, braced themselves, an instinctive urge that he had little reason to squash as the shrapnel connected with Adelle's armoured frame. Tessa's voice faded to the background with a hissed expletive that was terribly appropriate under the circumstances. Isley's words were reduced to even less than that, a sequence of vibrations that formed an unintelligible sound. He would have to listen to the speech over the recording.
The display of his HUD shifted with a muttered word, accessing a camera feed that overlooked Adelle and, by extension, her young ward, as he closed the distance between them. Tension clung to the Togruta's frame, their sharp movements emphasised by the beskar plates they had earned the right to wear, though not yet settled upon their body like a second skin. It would come in time—As long as they survived.
Adelle Bastille stood, her body braced against an impact that had already passed, fatigue moulded to her limbs, dragging her arms lower as the seconds passed and they remained in the aftermath of shattered stone.
Idly, his blue eyes shifted from the screen and the celebrations that were now free to proceed without the fear of a dead participant, instead lingering on the movements of the woman beside him.
"Ah, yes," he started, attempting to remind himself of the previous conversation before everything had collided. It was harder than he expected, the silence lingering for a moment as he considered his words.
"She is driven, resourceful, and although I am not sure she would agree with me on the matter, she is resilient. In that regard, I consider her a friend."
He'd check up on her later, once she'd finished with whatever purpose that had her striding towards the former Mand'alor rather than the medbay that was already prepared for incoming participants.
With deliberate slowness, he pivoted his Buy'ce to face Tessa, the dark visor reflecting a faint glimmer of light from nearby scones that snuck between the stretch of the pillars on either side of their conversation. His head inclined slightly to the right, searching for the appropriate words to bridge the silence.
They didn't come.
What would she say if he asked about her friends? If he asked how she was settling in?
In many ways, he already had, but the questions had been different then, a shade lighter than the concerns that he could only describe with blunt words more appropriate for an interrogation than a moment shared between two people who could be considered less than friends, probably not even acquaintances. It was easier in the bar when he'd considered it a single meeting—most people never got a second meeting, either because they got out or because they ended up buried. Their faces faded amongst a deluge of second chances and a light offered to those who couldn't see the road ahead.